


After the battle of Iserlohn Fortress

by Makataan



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 01:33:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15037787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makataan/pseuds/Makataan
Summary: 14 May 796 UC. Yang Wenli is honest with himself.





	After the battle of Iserlohn Fortress

Yang Wenli idly stirred his tea as a shocked silence descended over the briefing room watching the amber coloured liquid swirl in the cup and avoiding the stares of his shocked staff. The rhythmic scraping of steel against porcelain was almost soothing, hypnotic. 

He had just explained his plan to capture Iserlohn fortress, the sapphire-coloured jewel of the Empire. He expected Sithole to put him to work immediately after his success at the Battle of Astarte, but didn’t expect such a dramatic order. At the very least, he’ll receive a generous boost to his pension if this succeeded. He raised the cup to his lips and sipped. That’s a big if though.

Murai was first to speak up. “Commander, I strongly oppose this plan. It relies too much on... unpredictable factors.”

He casted a glance at a seated man unfamiliar to most, but whose badge, a shadowy figure bordered by a rose with the alliance symbol to his back, caused a degree of discomfort amongst the officers. Walter von Schönkopf, despite being the leader of the Rosen Ritter regimen, didn’t carry himself with the demeanor suited of a ranked officer. With his chair slightly turned away from the rest, his arms folded and his mouth pulled up in a smirk, he whistled mockingly. “So I’m an unpredictable factor? Who knows, with comrades like you maybe I’d defect after all.”

Yang decided to interject before Murai popped a vein. “Lieutenant Colonel,” he said pointedly. Schönkopf turned away from Murai and held Yang’s gaze for endless seconds. Finally he relaxed, smiling at Yang mysteriously. Yang rubbed the back of his head. Was this plan worth it after all?

Murai persisted. “Commander, I fail to see why you’re putting so much faith in what is essentially a rogue squad. They are on record as being hard to command, and being more trouble than they're worth.”

At this Schönkopf turned his chair to Yang, the smirk gone. Yang picked up the cup, looking at his tea-coloured reflection. “Well, if it doesn’t work and he turns traitor then it doesn’t work. Maybe the one-man legend can finally die.” He gulped the remaining tea down. “Shall we get started then?”

The officers of the 13th fleet stood, saluted and left. He tried to not pay heed to the worried murmurings as they exited. He took his beret off his head and rubbed his head. Maybe Murai is right, and the Ritters are more trouble than they’re worth.

“Looks like you need a drink.” He was so immersed in his thoughts that he was surprised to see Schönkopf still sitting there, watching him intently. 

He smiled wanly. “Is it that obvious?” He reaches in a cabinet under his desk. “Good thing I keep a stash,” he said, producing a bottle of brandy and two glasses, pouring for them both.

Schönkopf made a surprised “oh” sound, walked over to Yangs desk and leaned against the edge. Yang was concentrating hard on not spilling the mahogany liquid, wondering why he felt so conscious of himself. He felt Schönkopf’s eyes on him, and when he offered his glass their fingers brushed against one another. Be normal, Yang told himself as they clinked their glasses.

Schönkopf grunted with satisfaction. “Good stuff. Better savour my last taste of democratically distilled alcohol before my inevitable desertion to the Empire.”

The brandy was gone before Yang even tasted it, and he poured himself another one. “Take me with you. Between myself and Lohengramm, I would do half the work I’m doing at the moment”

That wasn't a weird thing to say, was it? He couldn’t decipher Schönkopf’s smile either. “You’re quick to give up the ideals of democracy, aren’t you?” he said with a smirk.

“And you’re quick to throw hot coffee in higher ranking officials’ faces,” Yang retorted.

Schönkopf raised his eyebrows. “You saw that? Didn’t know I was being stalked by celebrities.”

“Well I’m always on the lookout for public humiliations of blowhard officials,” said Yang. “It’s one of the reasons I requested you.”

“And what are the others?” Schönkopf asked.

Damn. He slipped up. He deeply appreciated Schönkopf staying behind and sharing a drink with him, and chatting with him came naturally and easy. One day he will be honest with himself and others, but today is not that day.

“Let’s get some rest while we can,” he said as he finished his drink and got up to leave, pretending to ignore Schönkopf’s gaze on his back.

***

There was no change on the massive screen, and Iserlohn looked as still and daunting as it did when the Rosen Ritter departed. Yang was convinced that he sent the men to their deaths, and he rubbed his tummy to ease the knots in his stomach.  
“Here you go,” said sub-lieutenant Greenhill, offering him tea in a disposable cup.  
Yang turned towards her, greatful for the distraction. “Ah, sub-lieutenant, you didn't have to.” He took the drink and had a sip, feeling the reassuring warmth settle in his knotted-up stomach. Julian must’ve told her to add some brandy.

Greenhill shook her head. “Mm-mm. Consider it a do-over after El-Facil,” she said with a wink.  
Yang took another sip to hide his embarassment. While El Facil was a panicked fever dream to him, to Greenhill it signified the first time that they had met. He hoped whatever feelings she had for him remained a teenager’s crush. She deserved someone who was not an alcoholic mess who can’t confront their feelings.

“In that case, keep doing over,” he said, and turned back towards the screen. Any minute now the buoys are going to light up, and once they’re in firing range the Thor Hammer will be charged up, obliterating them all. 

Lao’s excited cry brought his attention back to the screen. “I see it! The buoys floated up!” 

“Right.” He motioned with his hand that all ships should proceed to dock. As the brig rejoiced, Yang rubbed the side of his head and breathed a sigh of relief, and to stop himself from thinking why exactly he felt so relieved he finished Greenhill’s tea in one gulp.

***

Yang jumped off the walkway and double checked the map that Greenhill has provided of the officers’ quarters. He was more sure that he found the correct door than whether he was doing the right thing going there. The less he thought about it, the better.  
He pressed a button on a panel alongside the door. It wooshed open almost immediately. Schönkopf was still wearing the Imperial uniform pants but without the tunic, wearing only a white undershirt that revealed a tuft of chest hair and seemed sculpted to his body, outlining its contours and ridges. At first he looked surprised, then smiled warmly. “Commander.”

Yang focused his gaze somewhere behind Schönkopf’s shoulder. “Lieutenant Colonel,” he said as Schönkopf allowed him in. “Just thought it would be proper for me to congratulate the hero of the 7nth battle of Iserlohn”

Schönkopf grunted as he walked to the liquor cabinet. Yang took a seat on the ornate couch, and watched as Schönkopf returned with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He tried to be normal when he took a seat next to him. “Don’t be modest,” he said as he poured for them both, handing a glass to him. He raised his glass. “A toast to your excellence.”

“I’d rather not,” said Yang but clinked his glass against the other nonetheless. “Take the credit, then you can bask in the glory of being a national treasure.” He drank deep and flashed a sardonic smile. “Maybe have a photo-op with Truniht.”

“Bask in the adoration of fangirls?” Schönkopf asked with a knowing smirk. “Doesn’t sound half bad.”

Yang sank further down into the couch. “Maybe for you. I could do without the theatrics”

He was startled when Schönkopf leaned closer, looking at him directly. “What would you prefer?”

Yang froze, desperately looking for a focal point. “W-what?” he stammered.

Schönkopf smiled and retreated. “Hm. You’re quite an interesting guy,” he remarked, refilling their glasses. 

“What do you mean?” Yang said guardedly.

Schönkopf hands Yang his glass and sits back. “You hate the government, yet work for it. You hate fighting, yet you’re a soldier. You’re a brilliant tactician, rising through the ranks like few do, yet you don't use it to gain political power whatsoever. You’re a paradox.”

Yang was surprised and slightly annoyed by how well Schönkopf has read him in the short time they knew one another. He said nothing as he rotated his glass in his hands.

Schönkopf noticed his discomfort. “Sorry.That was uncalled for.”

“No, you’re right,” sighed Yang. “It doesn’t make sense, does it?” He finished his glass, relishing how the drink burnt down his throat. “But that’s me, and the misery I cause others is something I have to account for.”

“And misery to yourself.” 

Yang looked at him, but his eyes were unreadable. 

“Meaning?”

Schönkopf put his glass down. “There are questions you know the answer to but don’t want to admit.”

Yang turned the empty glass in his hands again.“Such as?”

“Stop being defensive. What do you want?”

Yang frowned. “That’s too vague.” When did Schönkopf inch closer? “I don’t need a self help guru. Pour me another drink.”

“Only if you tell me what you want,” he said, smirking.

Yang pouted and sighed. “Right then. I want to retire and write about history.”

“Good,” he said, refilling his glass. “What else?”

Yang downed his glass and rubbed his chin as he pretended to think. “Peace in the galaxy. Truniht to get an aneurysm. Is that enough?”

Schönkopf was even closer now. Breathe. “A bit cliché but sure. What else?”

Yang looked aghast. “Apart from galactic peace?” 

Schönkopf has placed his arm on the back of the couch behind Yang, enjoying his act. “Come on, you’re not auditioning for a beauty pageant. Just try.” 

If Yang was ever going to get what he wanted, he would have to be honest. Boldened by alcohol and lust, he did just that. “Stop asking silly questions and kiss me.” 

He brought his arm around Yang’s shoulders, bringing him closer. “That’s more like it.”

He couldn't stop the desperate moan that escaped his throat when the other man pressed his lips against his. The glass that he was still cradling fell softly on the carpeted floor, and he desperately clung to the fabric of his vest as waves of heat and desire washed over him. Schönkopf groaned at his reaction, which surprised him. The thought of pleasing him excited Yang, and he met his lancing tongue with equal vigour.

Schönkopf separated his lips from his and admired the Rear Admiral’s disheveled state through heavy eyelids. “That’s a more honest reaction,” he growled. 

“Shut up,” breathed Yang, gasping and flushed with lust.

Schönkopf replied by softly kissing the edge of his jawline. “Such unbecoming language for a high ranking officer. I like it.”

Schönkopf’s praises and his lips sucking on his skin emboldened Yang further. He pushed Schönkopf away, got up and straddled his thighs. “You should get me drunk more often then,” he purred, surprising himself as he stroked the taut muscles of his chest.

Schönkopf grunted, and put his hands on his hips, pulling him closer and pressing his erection against his belly. “Such a slutty Rear Admiral,” he said as he unzipped Yang’s pants, pushing the boxers down to spring out his cock, then his own.

Yang thought he would come from Schönkopf’s hand on his cock alone, and muffled a cry with his hand. He was already leaking precome, which Schönkopf was smearing over his head with his thumb. Yang bit his hand to stifle a throaty moan.

Schönkopf dribbled saliva onto his palm and started to pump both their cocks in his grip. Yang leaned back as he grinded against Schönkopf’s touch but Schönkopf pulled him in for another kiss with his other hand, messily intertwining their tongues. 

Yang felt overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure that rushed over his body. When Schönkopf played with the head of his cock again, rubbing its underside with his thumb he let out a sharp moan and collapsed forwards, clinging to his broad back and mewling into his shoulder.

“That’s good,” Schönkopf whispered into his ear, “I want the entire barracks to know how much you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Well I don’t,” he retorted and kissed him, moaning into his mouth as he matched Schönkopf’s pace with his grinding hips. 

Schönkopf tightened his grip and quickened his pace. “Come for me.”

As if on command, Yang arched back and stifled a drawn out moan as ribbons of come laced both their fronts. As he leaned back he looked at how Schönkopf gave his own cock a few rough tugs before he too came with a few short grunts. 

He pulled Yang closer for a tender kiss, and folded his arms tight around him. Yang wrapped his arms around his neck, relishing their warmth and closeness. 

They remained in a quiet embrace until Yang said, “I told Julian I’d be quick.”

Schönkopf stroked his back with his thumb. “Julian is a big lad. He’ll be fine.”

“Lieutenant Colonel,” he said in a mock-complaining voice.

Schönkopf kissed his forehead. “Aye aye commander. Let’s get yourself cleaned up first. Next time you’re getting naked.” He winked. “Or even better, come somewhere else.”

Next time huh, Yang thought to himself as he rearranged his hair in the bathroom mirror. Alone and sobering up he made a mental checklist of his future plans. 

Schönkopf was waiting with his scarf and tie and started tying first the one than the other around his neck. Yang swallowed. “I’m taking a ship to Heinessen tomorrow.”

“What for?” he asked, eyes focused on adjusting the tie’s knot.

“Come with me and I’ll tell you.”

Schönkopf didn’t miss a beat while he was busy with the scarf. “Interesting,” was all he said, tucking it into the jacket. He patted his shoulder. “All set. When and where?”

“11AM. Greenhill will forward you the bay number.”

“Very well.”

They looked at each other in the doorframe. Yang was sure he’d find out soon enough what Schönkopf was thinking. “I’d better get going.”

They pecked briefly. “Tomorrow then,” said Schönkopf as he unlocked the door. Yang stepped out and nodded.

The door wooshed closed. Schönkopf picked up the bottle of whiskey and took a deep swig. He had a feeling that his life was about to get a lot more interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> omggg im bad with naming things also kopyang gives me life also we need a better portmanteau for schonkopf/yang


End file.
